Fire Within (3 page)

“So, what happened between the shots and the time the cops arrived? Surely a guilty man wouldn’t stand there and wait.”

“This time he did. According to a bar patron,” Ryan pulled a notepad from his shirt pocket and flipped the pages, “a Lewis Hampton, the first person out the door, Eddie seemed frozen, just staring at the body. Maybe he was shocked by what he’d done.” Ryan returned to his desk and sat down. “You can look for mitigating factors, maybe affect the penalty, but a jury is going to take about ten minutes to convict.”

Ari shrugged. Maybe not, if Ryan couldn’t produce a weapon. And Eddie’s lawyer could get him to retract the confession. The juries in human trials were human. While they’d try to be impartial, she felt they’d be hesitant to convict on such slim evidence. Especially considering the consequences. Of course, nothing would help Eddie if he pled guilty. He’d never get to trial. The case would go straight to the penalty phase, and Eddie would be turned over to the vampires for disposition.

Ari’s gut clenched. Vampires could be very inventive.

She strengthened her resolve and wrote down Lewis Hampton’s number and address. His testimony would be critical to the prosecution’s case. If she wanted to save Eddie, she had to find a way to punch holes in his confession.

What they knew so far led to an unacceptable conclusion. She intended to start over from the beginning. Give it a fresh look. Collect new facts. Vampires—overly confident, arrogant or just plain belligerent, depending on your point of view—had a way of making enemies. There had to be other, better, suspects than Eddie. Ryan didn’t know the reporter the way Ari did. Eddie was a law-abiding guy, the kind who paid his parking tickets and didn’t fudge on his taxes. Much more likely to write a vitriolic column than take a gun in his hand.

But if Ari was right about his character, why was Eddie lying?

Chapter Two

As she drove away from the police station, Ari turned her Mini Cooper west toward the river district. The Woodland Inn was a small, neighborhood bar on the east edge of Olde Town. It stood in the zone next to Goshen Park that bridged the modern city with its dominantly human population and the original town, which in the past twenty years had been taken over by those who possessed and used magical abilities. The owner and any frequent patrons of the bar would be familiar with both divergent worlds.

When she arrived, Gillian was already there.

“Ari, so glad you called. Good excuse to get out of the OFR. What’s the story here?” The twenty-something lab tech, dressed casually in white jeans and a pink blouse, hurried across the parking lot with light, graceful steps. Tangled wisps of short blonde hair softened Gillian’s sharp, elfin features.

“I hoped they’d send you.” Ari grinned at her. A fragile looking species, but under that facade lay unusual strength; any elf could bench press 1,000 plus, if he or she was so inclined. Gillian chose to rely on her mind. The two women had been friends since Gillian joined the Otherworld Forensics & Research laboratory four years ago.

Ari explained what she knew about the case, the confession, the lack of physical evidence, and together they gave the scene a once-over. The bar was the only business in an unpretentious brown stucco building with the parking lot east of the front door. The crime scene tape was down, and a clean-up crew had already finished their work. Gillian began to walk around the edge of the paved area. Much of the surface was dotted with old oil stains. That made it easy to identify where the body had fallen. The spot-free area left by a clean-up crew was a dead give-away. Although it was early in the day, four cars were parked in the lot, but the scrubbed area remained empty. Superstition, or a show of respect for the victim?

Gillian returned, stopping next to Ari. “Not picking up much. How about you?”

“Haven’t tried yet.” Ari concentrated, reaching across the parking lot and around the building with tendrils of witch magic. She found residue of Otherworld energy, enough to raise the small hairs on her arms, but it was no more than could be accounted for by the victim’s presence the night before or even by Otherworld bar patrons. Vampires, wizards, lycanthropes, halfling demons, to name a few. Any of them might leak enough magic for trace readings. It had been too long since the incident for her to identify anything specific. She turned to look at Gillian. “Not getting enough. What’s your ES reading?”

Gillian peered at the screen of an Energy Sensor (ES), an instrument no larger than a cell phone. It was a relatively new piece of technology that could detect even minor amounts of magical energy from the presence of magical beings or from conjuring.

“Point zero one. Minimal. But it’s been almost fifteen hours. Wouldn’t expect a very high reading, no matter what happened here. Why weren’t we called last night?”

“Bureaucratic snafu.”

“Theirs or ours?”

Ari glanced at her, but Gillian was grinning.

“Not us, this time. Something about the number of calls on a holiday.” Ari shrugged. “It happens.”

“Not as bad as when our lab blew up the evidence.” Gillian chuckled. “That’s what I call experimental. Bits and pieces everywhere. Taught us not to use untried procedures on court cases. I’ll see if we can do better this time. You got a scene sketch?”

Ari gave her a copy, and they scrutinized the PD’s drawing. It was easy to re-create events. The victim must have come from the east toward the front door, which was on the northeast corner of the building. The parking lot would have been on his left. Ari walked over and stood in the spot.

The killer came from the south, staying between the building and the first row of parked cars. No doubt the lot was filled at that time of evening, but she still had a clear line of sight. The vampire would have seen his attacker. With those incredible vamp reflexes, why hadn’t he saved himself? Maybe the killer hunkered down in hiding behind the cars and jumped up firing. Ari thought about it. Nuh-uh. Not with the kind of accuracy that would take out head and heart, not unless he was an expert marksman. And that ruled out Eddie.

More likely the vampire hadn’t been concerned by the killer’s presence. She could see where the prosecution would go with that idea. They’d argue the victim knew his killer, didn’t anticipate an attack, and that pointed to Eddie, the brother-in-law.

“How’d this happen?” Gillian asked, as if reading her mind. “The victim should have gotten away. Vampires are too quick, too wary to get caught like this.”

“He wasn’t expecting it.”

“But the moment he saw a gun, why wouldn’t he take off or disarm his attacker?”

Good question. Jules had to know how upset Eddie was. Wouldn’t he at least be wary around him? Or had Jules succumbed to a moment of vampire arrogance, thinking no human could possibly be a serious threat?

“Police are positive this was a shooting?” Gillian wore a skeptical frown. “The ES mech isn’t giving me that kind of reading.”

“Witnesses said they heard shots. But I’m with you. This is weird.” Ari walked toward the position where the killer must have waited next to the building. “Shooter would have been right here.” She stopped in front of what would have been the first row of parked cars and crouched to search the ground. It was unlikely the PD techs had missed anything important, but she ran her hands over the area.

“What are you doing?” a gruff voice demanded. “This is private property.”

Ari straightened. A bulky male with a short beard stood in the bar doorway and surveyed her with suspicion.

“You a reporter?”

“Official investigation.” She palmed her ID and held it up. “Guardian and criminal investigator for the Magic Council. This is Gillian, from our forensics lab.”

The man squinted at the ID. “Uh, sorry, Guardian.” He stepped outside and let the door slam behind him. “Had a lot of folks nosing around. Reporters. Gawkers. Story made the morning TV news. Oh, I’m Joe Morris, owner and bartender.” He extended a hand, and they shook.

“You were working last night?”

“Me? Always working. Can’t afford much help. The economy, you know.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“Sure. Didn’t see the shooting, but be happy to tell you what I can. Let’s step inside. I got customers. Not many, but I try to keep them happy. Every penny counts when you run a business this small.” He held the door open.

Ari looked a question at Gillian.

“You go on,” the lab tech said. “I want to finish out here. Take another reading, get some samples. I’ll let you know if I find anything or come up with a plausible theory.”

“Check the bushes. Police probably contaminated the scene, but if our killer came or left that way, we might get lucky.”

“Will do. If there’s a speck of energy or DNA, I’ll find it.” Gillian waved a careless hand and began a grid search, section by section.

Ari and the bartender stepped inside. The smell of stale beer greeted her at the door, that strange dichotomy that allows something that tastes so good at night to smell so bad the next morning. Her attention quickly turned to the five customers sitting at the bar: three men, two women. All except one young man appeared to be fifty and up. One of the women was a werewolf. Thanks to Ari’s witch gifts, she could spot the auras of shape shifters, even when they were in human form. The wolf gave a brief nod of acknowledgement.

The other four were full-blooded humans. They studied Ari with curiosity and speculation. Neighborhood bar. Strangers stood out. They must be wondering why Joe brought one of the snoopers inside.

Ari knew they weren’t staring because she looked different. Even though her parentage was mostly witch blood, a taint of human had given her the blonde hair. Light hair, green eyes, girl-next-door ordinary. Nothing about her shouted witch. The raven hair, so common to her race of conjurors, had passed her by. She was usually mistaken for human, and she had heard her share of blond jokes—before people got to know her. Often under-estimated on first impression, she had learned to make it work for her.

The younger man sized her up and offered the bar stool next to him. He wouldn’t have done that for a witch. Ari took the offered seat; Joe went behind the counter.

“This here’s Guardian Calin,” Joe announced. “Works for the Magic Council. She’s here about the shooting. Introduce yourselves. Anybody need a refill?”

The young man turned to her, his face a little more guarded after that introduction. “Never met anyone who worked for the Magic Council.”

Ari gave him a friendly smile, ignoring his obvious invitation to elaborate on her job or her parentage. Once they were finished with introductions, she asked about Eddie. They clammed up.

“Don’t mind this crew,” Joe said. “No one wants to get Eddie in more trouble.” He gave the counter a vigorous rub. “Known him a long time. He’s a good kid.”

“And a friend of mine,” Ari said. “If I can help him, I will. But I need to know exactly what happened.”

They relaxed a bit after that, enough to admit everyone had been present the night before except the young man sitting next to Ari.

“Last night was busy,” Joe began, as he finished with the refills. “Being a holiday and all. Lots of celebrating, so there was quite a racket. But we all heard the shots real well. Four of them. Wasn’t fireworks. Too powerful for that. Thought somebody was celebrating with a pistol. Whatever it was, I knew it was trouble and dialed 911. By the time I looked outside, everybody was standing around the body. Then the cops came.”

“Could you see the victim?”

“Um, not really. Saw someone was on the ground. Then heard it was Jules. I didn’t stay outside long. Went back to watch the bar.”

“From what you could see, did Eddie have a gun?”

Joe finished wiping the bar counter. He tossed the rag underneath and leaned on his elbows. “No gun. Saw Eddie, as well as I can see you, but no gun. Can’t believe he’d shoot someone. Two summers ago he tended bar on the weekends after I broke my arm. Wouldn’t take any money.” Joe shook his head, lips pursed. “Don’t understand what happened last night. Gotta be some kind of mistake.”

Ari encouraged Joe to talk about Eddie and listened with interest as he related details of Eddie’s family history. The West kids had grown up with a church-going mother and an alcoholic father. Liquor hadn’t been allowed in their home, but Old Ed, as Joe called him, bought a pint or two every time he sneaked out of the house. “Drink finally killed him,” Joe concluded.

Hmm. Ari kept the spark of surprise off her face. Eddie had said his father wasn’t around much when he was young but nothing about the alcoholism. “And yet Eddie worked for you. With that history, I’d have thought he would stay away from bars.”

“Not around here. Everybody stops at the Inn. Even kids come around to buy their soda. And the West kids both drink a little. Not too much,” he added quickly. “With Lorraine and Jules it was always wine.”

“Any idea why Jules was coming here last night without Lorraine?”

“Often did. They came together now and then for a drink. But more often, he’d stop for a bottle. Take it over to Lorraine’s.”

Ari frowned. Who buys their home stash at a bar? Sounded expensive to her.

Joe anticipated the question. “I compete with the local grocery on wine, beer, and soda prices. Keeps folks coming in.”

“Did he always come at the same time, the same night of the week? Enough so anyone would notice?”

“Not particularly, but he or both of them were here often enough. And it being July 4th and all…”

“He was expected,” Ari finished.

They all nodded, mumbled agreement. “Lots of people could have guessed,” one of the older customers emphasized.

“Including Eddie?” Ari persisted.

“Well, yeah, if he thought about it.” Joe’s face was solemn. “Suppose so.” His shoulders tensed, as if he’d taken a poke and expected another. He didn’t like the questions that might damage Eddie, and Ari liked him for it.

She changed the subject. “What about other enemies? Fights? Someone who resented Jules coming in the bar?”

Heads shook in the negative. “Never saw him even have an argument,” one of the men said. “He was pretty well accepted.”